


Give Me Some Time While I Work On It

by dabforpalermo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Carl is still a kid guys, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Protective Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabforpalermo/pseuds/dabforpalermo
Summary: Carl Gallagher is a kid. A kid who’s been through too much for his 15 years of life. Mickey Milkovich is his brother’s boyfriend who has a special way with words.Or, Mickey helps Carl through a problem.
Relationships: Carl Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	Give Me Some Time While I Work On It

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone seems to overlook the things Carl has been through. Not canon to any timeline showed in the series. Title is from Star Shopping by Lil Peep.

Carl stares at the ground, pressing his burnt out cigarette into the pavement and blinking twice before reaching for another one, griping silently at the empty pack. He tosses it a foot away and steps on it, relishing in the way the box crumbles. 

“Hey, man. Ian here?”

He looks up, jumping a little at the sudden intrusion. Carl’s eyes meet Mickey’s, and he finds himself relaxing in a weird way, something about Mickey’s presence loosening his shoulders. Mickey holds his glance before furrowing his eyebrows. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Uh- Ian’s not here. Yet. I dunno when he’ll be back.”

Mickey nods and looks toward the crushed cigarette box. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey crosses his arms across his chest. “You better work on lying, kid, because you sound like a fuckin’ puppy.”

Carl slides his thumb across his bottom lip, the small touch comforting him. He stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m okay.”

“Fuck is it?”

“Jesus, I said I’m fucking fine,” Carl replies, his voice too unsteady for the anger he’s trying to get across. He turns on his heels and rushes inside, going straight up to his room and slamming the door, falling down onto the bed and holding his forearm to his mouth as choked sobs make their way through. 

Carl Gallagher is  _ not  _ a pussy. Carl doesn’t cry, doesn’t whine, doesn’t bitch about things he can’t control. But over the last 15 years of his life, he’s been gathering small instances that he wishes he would have cried about, and now, it’s finally catching up to him. He squeezes his eyes shut and rolls onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow and struggling to breathe properly. It’s a few seconds, minutes, lifetimes, before the door opens. 

“Jesus, man..”

Mickey carefully sits on the bed next to him after closing the door and locking it, hesitantly placing a hand on Carl’s back. 

“Hey, hey. You’re gonna choke, dude. Wanna sit up?”

Carl tries to bat at him, but Mickey doesn’t budge, just manhandles the teenager into sitting. Carl pulls his lanky legs to his chest and wipes at his eyes, his breath coming in quick pants. 

“It’s alright. Come on, man. You’re fine.”

“‘M not fucking fine!”

“I know, I know.” Mickey looks at a loss for words, but he moves closer and grips onto Carl’s shoulder, and the touch triggers something different in him. 

All his life, Carl has been searching for something. Something paternal he was never given with Frank. Hell, he’s tried and tried for years to be the perfect son, but it doesn’t matter, never will matter, because Frank doesn’t want to be his father. Lip is protective and smart, and Ian is gentle and wise, but the two of them have always just been his older brothers. 

But Mickey- he’s different. Mickey is strong and loyal and mean and soft and everything Carl’s needed in his life. Mickey taught him how to shoot a gun and is more involved in his life than Frank’s ever been. And sure, Mickey is only a few years older than him, but with his years of experience, he makes up for the void in Carl’s heart. 

Carl feels the tears flow at a stronger pace as he comes to this realization. 

“Hey, Carl, it’s okay.”

Carl shifts forward and presses his forehead to Mickey’s chest, breathing raggedly as Mickey panics silently, deciding after a few beats to bring a hand up to his hair. 

“I got you. It’s okay, kid. I’m here.”

Carl has always been the psychopath. The crazy kid who blew up action figures and tortured animals. It’s hard to believe one can change, and sure, Carl still has some troubling tendencies, but everyone around the house seems to forget he’s still so young. Fiona takes the lead in the house, and much as thankful as Carl is for her, it’s another scenario, because she  _ wants  _ to be there for her kids. Carl has never once in his life wanted to be thrown into this world with nothing but a pocket knife and a fucked up family, but here he is. 

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, man.”

Carl feels the nausea form in his stomach at Mickey’s words, but the man just holds him tight, running his inked fingers through Carl’s shaggy hair and rocking him gently. 

“You have to calm down a bit. Okay?”

“O..” 

“Yeah. I know.” Mickey sorts through his brain for the things he knows could work, the things he stayed up googling when Ian was asleep during his first bipolar episode just in case he ever needed it. “Here, Carl, I’m gonna help you, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Can you feel me breathing?”

Carl closes his eyes again, trying to focus. He can feel the steady rise and fall of Mickey’s chest against his cheek, so he nods, not wanting to lie. 

“Good. That’s good. Can you try and copy that?”

Carl tries, he really does, but the second he takes in a deep breath, he chokes. Mickey rubs his back as he coughs aggressively. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s try again.”

After a few more minutes, Carl’s breathing steadies, and the tears slowly still. He brings a shaking hand up to his face and wipes at them aggressively, sitting back and scooching away from Mickey, leaning against his headboard. 

“You alright now?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck was that about?” 

Carl shifts on the bed. “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing, dipshit. You just had a fuckin’ panic attack meltdown extravaganza.”

“I’m just tired.”

“No, you’re not.”

Something snaps in Carl. “Yes, I am! I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m a grown fucking adult, when I’m literally years away from being considered grown up. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m some heartless bitch, that I don’t feel anything or think anything. Everyone thinks I’m fucking stupid, constantly tells me I’m going nowhere in life because I fail a couple tests. I’m so fucking tired of this stupid city and this stupid family and realizing I’m never gonna have a fucking dad-“ Carl’s voice cracks. “Never!”

Mickey stares at him, a mixture of worry and sadness in his eyes. Carl takes a deep breath. 

“I did fucking everything for Frank! He made me think I had cancer, he constantly told me I was trash, he used me to get his way because we weren’t enough!” Carl stands, gesturing wildly with his arms. “I wasn’t enough! I will never be enough for him!”

“Carl-“

“No! Because you don’t fucking know. Nobody knows! Fiona has her hundreds of boyfriends, Lip has college, Ian has you, Debbie has her daughter and her stupid fucking friends, and Liam is still too young to realize how fucked up everything is. I have  _ nothing _ .”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Alright. You done?”

“What?”

“Are you done screaming your ass off? That feel good?”

“I don’t-“

Mickey pats the spot on the bed next to him, and Carl eyes him warily as he sits. Mickey pulls his cigarette pack out of his pocket and lights one up, taking a drag before passing it to Carl. 

“Feels good to take it out like that, eh? All angry and shit. I’ll admit, didn’t think you had it in you.”

Carl glares at him as the smoke burns into his lungs, and he holds on for a moment too long before releasing it. He hands it to Mickey. 

“So, now that you got the crying and yelling out, want to calm down and tell me what’s going on?”

Carl thinks for a second, kicking his feet on the ground. “I just… I’m so done.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because- because everytime I show any hint of emotion it’s always a joke to everyone.”

“What brought this on, though. You wouldn’t just get pissed out of nowhere.” 

Carl takes the cigarette back. “I don’t know.”

“Again. You can’t lie to me. You suck at it.”

Carl closes his eyes and turns his body away from Mickey. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t care.”

“In.. in class, they said they want all the dads to come in and present about their jobs. Help us explore career options, or some shit.”

“It’s the fuckin’ Southside, half the kids here don’t got dads.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“And that set you off why? Because Frank’s gonna disappoint you again? Well, tough luck, kiddo, get used to that.”

“It’s just- it’s everything on top of that. Everytime I try and talk about something relating to Frank it’s always- ‘oh, Fiona had to raise you, Fiona had it so much worse than you’. And I know. But it still pisses me off.”

“Ah.”

“And- and the worse part is.” Carl bites down on his lip, his voice tense. “I can see Frank’s trying to change for Liam.” 

Mickey breathes in slowly through his nose, and the noise reminds Carl to breathe as well. 

“I don’t know what I did that made him hate me so much. He couldn’t change for me, for any of us, but he’s trying to for Liam.”

Mickey places a hand on his leg. “I don’t really know what to tell you, Carl. Frank is a drunk, addicted, asshole piece of shit who is gonna give you a lifetime of disappointments.”

“I know.”

“But, I just want you to know that you don’t gotta keep pretending to be some tough guy all the time. You’ve been through a lot, just as much as your other siblings, you have that right to talk about it.”

“I can’t with them.”

“Then you come to me. We can sort through it together.”

Carl looks up at him, squeezing his mouth into a small smile. Mickey keeps his face serious as he speaks. 

“I’m here for you, man. I signed up for your whole batshit family when I started dating Ian, and that includes you.”

“Thanks, Mickey.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.”

Mickey hears the front door open downstairs. 

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Get the fuck out so I can fuck your brother.”

Mickey squeezes his leg before leaning back, and Carl shivers with disgust as he unlocks the door and slides out, closing it gently behind him. Ian rushes up the stairs and smiles at him, ruffling his messy hair and heading straight into their shared room. Carl hears a belt hit the floor and goes downstairs, moving outside and breathing in the fresh air. 

Mickey’s right. Frank is always gonna disappoint him. But at least he knows he has someone in his corner now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I probably won’t be posting for a little bit. Make sure to take some time for yourself and check in with your friends and family. Love you all.


End file.
